by Jenna Stone
“Aye, it’s hard for me not to remember that. Every time I move I feel yer stitchery.” He made a mock grimace that possibly held a hint of sincerity.
I was quite sure that the wound pained him more that he would let on.
“Let’s have a look at it,” I said, brushing my hands on my full skirt. “I don’t want to touch you with dirty hands, but at least pull your shirt up so that I can have a look at it.”
“Slow down lass, we’ve but just met and yer demanding that I undress? How can a lad protect his modesty these days?” Devon chided but obliged, un-tucking the clean linen shirt from his kilt and rucking it up to expose my handiwork, as well as the physique that I had admired last night. There was not an ounce of fat on the man. His abdominal muscles were well sculpted, and they tapered into a deep V that delved beneath his woolen kilt.
I noticed that he had shaved since our last encounter in the hall and his hair was neatly pulled back into a thick tail secured by a leather throng at the base of his neck. I leaned closer to inspect my handiwork, quite impressed with how my stitches were holding up. It was impossible not to notice his taught, muscled chest and tanned skin. My nose tinged as it caught his earthy, masculine smell. Electricity shot through my nerves as I felt Devon’s eyes watching me. I caught myself and consciously drew away from him, collecting myself.
Something about this man that I barely knew struck me. My heart skipped a beat as I examined his chest, and then it began to hammer in double time.
Oh my. Is he interested in me?
Intrigue blazed in Devon’s eyes as he looked down at me and a boyish smile played across his face as my fingers grazed over the warm skin of his chest.
He’s flirting with me!
“It looks great. Not bad for my first needlepoint project,” I mustered, suppressing the attraction that I felt and drawing myself away from Devon McClain. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the infection had receded and the skin had a pink healthy pallor about the wound. “And being that you were quite rude, I will take you up on the offer of a hot bath!”
“I wouldna offer if I could na deliver,” he smiled. “I’ll speak with the maids and have a tub taken up to yer chamber this afternoon,” he said, pulling down his shirt and tucking it into his crimson plaid kilt.
“Thanks,” I replied, looking down at the dirt, unsure of how to continue. I made a vain attempt to concentrate on my work in the garden in an effort not to look at Devon. I felt strangely at ease around Devon, despite my undeniable attraction to him. Under my father’s watchful eye, any man who had dared to flirt with me would have been killed. I found that I quite enjoyed Devon’s apparent interest in me. It made me feel wanted, powerful and normal. I warned myself to remain cautious and not to let my new-found liberties cloud my judgment.
“How’s Brennan?” I asked, concerned for Leti’s betrothed, but hoping this would be a safe subject of conversation. I needed to alleviate the delicious burn of Devon’s eyes on my skin temporarily so that I could collect my rational thoughts.
“His fever has gone down, and he seems tae be doing better. I thought that he was a goner for sure,” Devon remarked coolly. “My sister would have killed me. I can’t thank ye enough for what ye did for him. He’s like my brother, ye ken.”
“You’re welcome,” I responded, secretly euphoric that my healing techniques had done anything to help Brennan.
We sat quietly for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. I continued to harvest bulbs from the garden and Devon twisted a sheath of grass between his fingers. I felt his gaze upon me in the way that one knows when they are being watched, even without actually looking up to meet his eyes. I felt him watching me, studying my movements. Having only met Devon last night, I had judged him to be a leader, a warrior who cared deeply about his men. He also appeared to have a lighter side complete with a bawdy sense of humor, which was contrary to the preconceived notions that I had regarding what a barbaric warrior should be like. Maybe his sense of humor had been amplified by the whisky that he had consumed last night, but I was beginning to believe that it was just part of his nature.
I glanced over at the man leaning against the stone wall, casually twisting the long piece of grass between his fingers. I sensed something that I had not picked up on last night. Maybe it was caution, but Devon was clearly trying to figure something out about me. He was observing me cautiously, trying to avoid my notice. It was hard not to notice this giant of a man. He was handsome and his presence was commanding. I felt his gaze flicker from the grass twisting in his fingers and burn across my skin. I also felt when his gaze shifted back to his hands and the grass he was twisting between his fingers. My heart raced as the thought crossed my mind that he might be onto my rouse, might be figuring out that I was not in fact Ms. Berkshire.
I felt his gaze settle on me once again and I looked up from my work, meeting his eyes straight on. He smiled slightly, as if he had been caught at something that he should not have been doing. His eyes held contact with mine for a moment longer that was comfortable and I felt the color rise to my face as he so openly looked at me with those green eyes.
“Are ye about done?” he questioned, still smiling slightly so as to reveal the dimple that I had noticed last night while he was asleep atop the table.
Suddenly horrified with myself for appraising him so openly, I felt my face flush with color.
“Done with what?” I questioned haughtily, feeling immediately embarrassed by the intensity at which we were looking at each other.
He took joy in teasing me and was calling me out for ogling him. I made a mental note to distance myself from him. I sensed that playing with Devon McClain would be like playing with fire. Not wanting to get burned, I knew that I should keep my distance from this man.
“Diggin’ in the dirt, lass. What else? I’ve the afternoon off due tae my shoulder and I’d rather not waste my entire time sitting here watching ye dig in the dirt.”
“Don’t let me stop you then. Get on your way,” I said wondering why he didn’t move along if he didn’t want to sit there and watch me. I certainly hadn’t asked him to stay.
Does he really want me to go with him?
I was giddy with excitement, but pangs of guilt resounded as I knew that I should not lead him on, should not go with him. I wanted to spend more time with him. I was enjoying these new-found attentions that my father’s over-protective ways had deprived me of. I wanted to be a carefree young woman, chased after by a handsome man.
“Let’s go then,” he said, standing up and tossing the grass stem to the ground. He reached out a hand in my direction. His hands were large, tan and calloused. I noticed that there were scars of various sizes covering his hands. He was such a contrast to the aristocratic men that I was accustomed to. I had never met a man that had calluses from actual labor. I knew that Devon’s calluses came from wielding a sword. Something that was absolutely unimaginable to me. “I mean tae take ye with me,” he smiled. “It’s nae fun having the day off if ye’ve no one tae get into trouble with.”
I brushed my hands on my skirts, reached up and took his hand. I was committed now and allowed his hand to close around my own, hoping that this was not as big of a mistake as I was afraid that it might be. My hand was completed enveloped by the size of his work hardened tan hand. His hands were masculine, warm and strong as he gently pulled me to my feet. My heart beat faster in anticipation.
“And why would I allow you to take me anywhere?” I questioned feigning a half-hearted excuse not to go with Devon as I squinting up at him in the afternoon sunlight. Although I prided myself in being a free woman, I knew that going out alone with a man was frowned upon. Or at least it was frowned upon where I came from. Devon did not seem to be the kind of man who would care about what was frowned upon.
“Ouch, a fiery lass ye are!” he said, eyebrows raised in surprise, seeming to somehow appreciate my quick refusal of his invitation. “I’ll do ye nae harm, Kate. I’d like to show ye around the la
nds surrounding the keep, as further means of thanking ye for putting up with my antics last night. It will be most respectable, I promise,” he said, flashing me a devilish smile.
I questioned if Devon McClain was capable of being respectable. He was a rebel if I had ever seen one. “Should I change?” I questioned, self conscious as I looked down at my dirt stained wool dress. I imagined that I must look affright, hair disheveled and dirt smeared across my face from gardening. I felt Devon’s eyes upon me and I knew that he did not share my opinion about my looks. I could tell when a man liked what he saw. The look on his face made me nervous, yet strangely, I trusted him to be the perfect gentleman. Well, maybe not perfect.
“Yer lovely as ye are,” he smiled encouragingly. “And if ye don’t hurry up, I’ll have tae kidnap ye.” Devon grabbed the basket from my hand and strode from the garden towards the kitchen. I brushed my hands on my skirt once more and followed after him towards the kitchen. I was intrigued by Devon and I could not deny that I had noticed the way he had been looking at me, examining me. I could see that there was something about me that interested him.
I tried to quell the fire that his gaze had ignited deep within me as I trailed behind him. I would allow him to show me about the keep, but that is all that I would allow him.
Chapter Five
“Put yer arms around my waist lass, and hold on tight!” he warned before kicking the horse into motion.
I quickly obliged out of fear from falling off the horse, scolding myself for noticing how firm the muscles of his abdomen and back felt beneath my fingers.
We rode away from the keep and Devon settled one arm around my waist to steady me as the terrain gradually changed from a flat meadow surrounding the keep to a rocky steep slope surrounded by trees. We rode up a narrow rocky path, climbing up the side of the hill until we reached a clearing that was surrounded by towering pine trees. Although we were not far from the keep, the clearing felt as though it was another place entirely. It was secluded by the forest surrounding it and filled with late summer wildflowers in shades of purple and white. It was beautiful.
Devon reined the horse to a stop and dismounted, still holding me in his arms. He gently set me on my feet and pulled my arms from around his waist. Color rushed to my face again when I realized that I had been hanging onto him just a little too tightly. He had to tug the linen of his shirt from the grips of my fists, laughing softly as he did so.
“Not a fan of horses I see?” he said as he straightened his rumpled shirt.
“No. Riding is not something that I have learned to enjoy.”
“What do ye think, lass? he questioned, changing the subject and looking around the clearing proudly.
I surveyed the clearing, taken aback by its simple beauty. “It’s amazing!”
“Always been one of my favorite places, ye ken?” he said as he rummaged in the saddle bag of his horse, producing a plaid blanket which he spread out over the lush grass of the meadow. “Not too far from the keep, but it feels like a different world altogether,” he said as if reading my mind. “I’ve always liked coming up here to be alone, tae think things out.” He pulled out a few paper wrapped bundles and a small round of bread, followed by an earthenware jug and two cups. “Have a seat will ye?”
I sat down on the blanket, smoothing my skirts around my legs, and surveyed the picnic that he had set before us. Devon tucked his unruly hair behind his ears, then gave up and unfastened his hair, raking his hands through it before refastening the queue at the base of his neck.
He joined me on the blanket and popped the cork from the jug. He poured ale into a cup and handed it to me. I watched him intently as he poured himself a cupful and took a deep dreg of the cool amber liquid. His movements were smooth and precise and he held an easy grace which I had not often observed in a man. Devon was clearly a man who was comfortable in his own skin. He knew I was watching him, but didn’t care in the least.
“See, I promised tae be on my best behavior,” he smiled and un-wrapped the small paper parcels to reveal several types of cheese and two apples.
“This is really nice,” I said with sincerity, surprisingly glad to be free from the prison-like walls of the castle. “I wouldn’t have expected this after the insensitive bastard that you appeared to be last night.” I said, teasing.
“First impressions are everything, are they no?” he said, still puzzled by his first impression of this contradiction of a woman. He took a bite out of one of the apples and tossed the other my way.
I reached up and caught the apple, at the same time I noticed the stain on his shirt as he turned towards me. “Your shoulder!” I gasped, dropping the apple and moving quickly towards him. Bright crimson blood had stained his fresh linen shirt.
He looked down and casually dismissed the blood. “It’s nothing, lass. Doona fash yerself.”
“Obstinate man!” I said, not asking permission to take off his shirt this time I unbuttoned the shirt to his waist, and carefully slid my hands beneath the stained fabric, baring his chest and exposing the bleeding wound. I felt him shudder and quickly draw in his breath as my hands slid over his skin to push away the shirt. “You’re bleeding badly!” I exclaimed, examining the wound. My stitches had torn apart slightly and had irritated his skin, which was now bleeding where the stitches precariously bound the wound closed.
“It’s no that bad, lass,” he said taking another bite of his apple, clearly not worried by the wound. “It’ll stop bleeding in nae time.”
Figuring that his shirt was the cleanest thing available, I balled up the tail and pressed it to the wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. I glanced up at Devon who was munching away at his apple, watching me with those captivating green eyes. I held his shirt in place on the wound, leveraging myself against him to apply pressure, and settled back onto my knees into a more comfortable position.
“I should have never agreed to let you bring me here. You should still be in bed with a wound like this.” I ordered, finding myself irresponsible for not being a better nurse.
“I’ll do as I please,” he said, challenge in his voice.
“Stubborn idiot!” I huffed as I brushed the stray lock of hair that had fallen across my face behind my ear.
Devon chuckled. “All Scots are stubborn. Its born and bred into us. Ye’d be wise tae learn that early. It’ll save ye a lot of hassle.”
“But I told you not to use this arm!” I scolded, eyebrows knit together. “The stitches looked fine this morning in the garden, now they’ve torn apart and I’m worried that it might get infected,” I said as I gingerly pulled back the ball of his shirt to inspect the status of his bleeding. It had slowed considerably, but I pressed the shirt back in place for good measure.
“If I hadna used my right arm, ye’d have fallen right off my lap on the way up here! I’d not planned tae use it, that’s why I told ye tae hold on, ken. But ye didna hold on tight enough and I figured that it would be better to tear my stitches than tae let ye fall off my lap and bruise yer cute little bum.”
Yet again, color flooded my face and I looked away from his green eyes and focused my vision on his shoulder, pretending to examine the bleeding again.
“Oh,” I said quietly, now feeling bad for berating him and embarrassed that he had mentioned my “bum.”
“I had promised tae be most respectable and I thought that letting ye fall of a horse might not redeem me verra much,” he said, reaching over and removing my hand from his chest. “It’s done bleeding now, lass. Thanks ye.”
“I’m sorry that I chastised you,” I said.
“Nae harm done. A little more of this ale and I’ll forget all about it. Ye should have some too,” he invited, glancing towards my cup.
I reached towards him and pulled his shirt together, starting to button it from the bottom and working my way up. His breathing changed as I worked my way up towards his neck and smoothed the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair as
I drew away from him and settled back down on the blanket. I took a deep drink of the cool ale. It was bitter and tasted good in the afternoon sunshine. One would have to be blind not to see the physical attraction between us. It was almost palpable. I knew that he had noticed it as well and we were both unsure of how to proceed.
“Can I use my arm now?” he asked mockingly, using his right hand to raise the jug of ale to his mouth.
“Do as you wish,” I said, feigning disinterest.
“Yer so damn bossy that saying that was difficult for ye, was it no?”
“I’m not bossy!”
“Really?” he laughed, “Yer no bossy? Ye’ve done nothing else but tell me what I should and shouldna do with myself since I met ye in the hall last night!”
“Well, maybe I am little bossy, but if you had some sense about you, I wouldn’t have to be telling you what to do,” I said matter-of-factly, taking another swig of ale.
“No wonder ye get on with Leti so well. She loves ye already,” he said. “I think that her favorite hobby is bossing Brennan and I around. Drives me mad.”
“She loves you both very much,” I said, defending my new friend. “I’m sure she’s just trying to keep you two out of trouble.”
“Aye, she does,” he said, taking a bite of bread. “And she kens that I would do just about anything for her, so she can get away with being a tad bossy,” he confided, smiling slightly.
“Who is older, you or Leti?” I questioned, having never thought to ask before.
“I’m older,” he said with a smirk, green eyes sparkling.
“By how much?” I asked, taking the bait.
“About an hour,” he chuckled. “She’s plagued me almost my whole life,” he said jokingly.
“I had no idea that you were twins!” I exclaimed, surprised this revelation.
